


Fond Remembrances

by Morgana



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how hard you try, you really can't outrun the past</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fond Remembrances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acacia5](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=acacia5).



Spike didn't bother to knock on the office door, just walked right inside and dropped into one of the chairs in front of the desk. “So, ran into a pretty nasty beast last night on patrol an' was gonna kill it, but then I got to thinkin' that it might be a client. Wouldn't do to go round slayin' the blokes who pay the bills, yeah?”

“Angel's not in his office, I take it?”

“Nah. Some meetin' or other with the big high muckety-mucks.” He slouched down in his chair and studied Wesley's bent head for a few seconds. “Figured that was just too good a story to waste, though.”

Wesley didn't look up from his translation. “As fascinating as your ever-expanding attempts to provoke Angel are, I assume it's not the only reason you're here?”

The vampire chuckled. “Got that right. Fred asked if I'd mind droppin' by, tell you to be ready at eight an' no stayin' late.” When the other man nodded, Spike couldn't resist needling him a bit. “Got big plans with our girl, do you?”

“_My_ girl, and yes. We're attending an opening exhibition for de la Roche's newest works.” He closed the book and set it aside, glancing at the clock to see how long he had before he needed to start getting ready.

“Can't say I care for that bugger. He's a prissy little bastard, not worth the grand vernissage the gallery's no doubt throwin' for him.” His use of the formal term clearly surprised the ex-Watcher, who turned to look at him for the first time since he'd walked into his office.

“How did you - forgive me, but I just found myself curious as to how you -”

“Know that word?” Spike smirked as he nodded, then shrugged. “Angelus couldn't get enough of art, went to every openin' he could find an' dragged me right along with him.” He looked away for a second, then added softly, “He loved the paintings, seein' 'em fresh on the wall an' talkin' to the other artists an' I -” _I loved Angelus._ The words hung unspoken in the air, but all he said was, “I listened an' caught on.”

Wesley hesitated for a second, then murmured, “You must have cared for him a great deal, to spend your nights in such a manner.”

Blue eyes softened a bit. “He was my sire. Dru gave me the blood, but it was Angelus taught me, an' that...” he shook his head. “Got no idea what it means to have someone make you over from the ground up - never can until it happens to you. They become your whole world. Everythin' you do, everythin' you think about revolves around them. They say your name an' you'd give anythin' they asked, just cause you want to see 'em smile. An' when they touch you...”

The wistful look on Spike's face tugged at him, reminding him altogether too much of how often he'd felt that way around Fred. Wesley opened his mouth, although he wasn't sure what he meant to say before a knock on the door interrupted him. He looked up to see Angel standing in the doorway, and for a second, he thought the vampire might comment on what Spike had said, but he seemed not to notice his childe, just said, “Hey, Wes, did you have a second? I was hoping to go over - Spike. Don't you ever get tired of bothering people around here?”

The lack of anything even approaching feeling in Angel's voice rubbed over his nerves like sandpaper, especially now that he'd seen another layer to the blond, and Wesley's voice was sharper than usual when he asked, “Can this wait for another time, Angel? Spike was assisting me with some research that's rather important.”

Spike shoved his chair back, his features rearranging themselves into their usual look of contempt as he snarled, “Forget it, Watcher. Wouldn't want to get in the way of the next apocalypse, would I? Sure the evil law firm here has its fingers in all sorts of pies that somethin' like that could muck right up.”

Angel watched Spike stalk out, then turned back to Wesley in time to see the other man rise from his chair as well. “I don't propose to tell you how to conduct your affairs,” the human said quietly. He withdrew an embossed invitation from a pile of papers on his desk, then held it out to his friend. “But perhaps an evening of reflection would serve as a welcome reminder of pleasanter times and company. We would all like to see you find a measure of happiness, Angel. You deserve it.” Without any further discussion, he headed out to tell Fred that they'd have to change some of their plans, never looking back at the vampire he'd left standing in his doorway, staring in dumbfounded silence at the invitation to de la Roche's opening.


End file.
